The Soldier Poem by Ross DixPeek

The Soldier


From the very dawn of time
They have left their homes with dreams fine
Ready for battle and hearts ablaze
Swords unsheathed for hellfire days
Their noble breasts to the fore

But soon the hell of war
Doth destroy the vital core
Gone soon is the eager smile
And the mere thought of battle, most vile
Frayed nerves, tender and raw

The awful days proceed unending
Many a dear friend’s soul ascending
The indelible stain of young men’s blood
Sacrificed to the gods of war in a ceaseless flood
Reason has fled, no-where to be seen

All that is left is benumbing dread and fear
And the “Thousand-Yard Stare”
Each day a quest for survival
Each day but to “Kill”, “Kill”, ”Kill”!
Death’s stalking shadow ever-present and near

And yet, Wars beating drum still beats aloud
A dark, morbid and fitful cloud
To the soldier, all is in vain
As life’s fancy begins to wane
The awful cries of the vanquished, the only sound

And when the crimson sword is again sheathed
And the comfort of home to the soldier bequeathed
All that remains is the silent, haunting night
Unwanted memories and a fevered mind in fright
His shackled soul never to be freed!

Tis only the “Grim Reaper” and death’s ardent ring
That peace to the anguished warrior can bring
Tis only the shedding of mortal anger and regret
That shall his martial soul cause to forget
And then, at last content, to rise on-high upon an angel’s wing!